


Your Back, Beneath The Sun

by Thats_Amore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Communication, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Innuendo, Nationverse, POV America (Hetalia), Sappy Ending, Summer Vacation, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thats_Amore/pseuds/Thats_Amore
Summary: On a lazy summer day on a beach in Amalfi, America writes his name on Romano's back and realizes something important.
Relationships: America/South Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	Your Back, Beneath The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> The back tattoos I describe in this story were taken from this headcanon post by lluviadinoche: https://lluviadinoche.tumblr.com/post/187111027521/finished-the-chest-and-back-body-ref-for-lorenzo
> 
> This fic, and the title, was inspired by a couple lines in the song "August" by Taylor Swift.

A few minutes ago, Lorenzo had told him that he was done splashing around in the ocean and wanted to take a nap. Alfred still had enough energy to build an elaborate sandcastle or swim for another hour or two, but he had decided to join his boyfriend on the beach towel they had set out earlier. Frankly, some things were more important, and spending time with his boyfriend was one of them. America could enjoy the quiet moments too.

Right now, Lorenzo was resting on his stomach with his head pillowed on his forearms. His eyes were closed, and he was relaxed, but he wasn’t breathing quite slow and steady enough to have gone to sleep yet (and because Alfred was an “obsessive weirdo,” he could tell the difference). In the background, America could hear some happy children shouting in Italian and seagulls cawing, but he wasn’t paying attention to those. As usual, his gaze remained focused on Romano. Whenever Romano was in the vicinity, it was difficult for America to look anywhere else. He wouldn’t want to, not when his boyfriend happened to be the most gorgeous person to ever grace God’s green earth. And there was no reason for him to look away, not on this slow summer day when the pressures and duties of being a nation could be left behind, if only for a moment.

America’s eyes slowly traveled down Romano’s back, over the Medici family crest that, along with the rooster behind it, covered most of his shoulder blades. He licked his lips when he saw that one patch of blank skin, tanned from the sun and with little water droplets clinging from the time he’d spent in the water. America idly considered licking those water droplets off his skin, but he knew he shouldn’t, not on a public beach and not when his boyfriend was trying to taking his customary afternoon nap. (Frankly, Romano could be a little scary if you woke him up while he was trying to sleep and didn’t have a good reason. And no, wanting to go shoot off some awesome new fireworks Hong Kong gave you did not count as a good reason. America knew this from experience.)

America grinned to himself as his gaze lowered to the lower back tattoo Lorenzo had repeatedly insisted was not a “tramp stamp,” no matter what people in America called tattoos in that particular location. It was more tasteful than most tramp stamps, America conceded, and the laurel branches framing the sun fit in well with the rest of his tattoos. It was also sexy as hell, and America had told Romano just how sexy he thought it was at least a hundred times.

Lorenzo chuckled suddenly, and America startled. He hadn’t known Romano was awake enough to notice what he was doing.

“You’re staring at my ass again, aren’t you?”

“What?! No, I wasn’t!”

Romano shifted his head so that America could see his smirk. “You’re blushing, and you squawk louder than a seagull when you’re embarrassed. I don’t know why you try to lie when you’re so terrible at it.”

America huffed and tried to ignore the heat he could feel crawling into his neck. “I wasn’t lying. And I wasn’t staring at your butt, technically. I was staring right _above_ your butt.”

Lorenzo snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say, idiota.” He turned his head back into his arms, and America couldn’t see his face anymore.

“It’s a nice butt,” Alfred muttered to himself. “And as your boyfriend, I should have butt-staring privileges.” If Romano didn’t want America to stare at his butt, maybe he shouldn’t wear that little Speedo that showed it off so nicely. America wasn’t _blind_ , for fuck’s sake.

“I never said you couldn’t.” He sounded amused, like he had overheard America mumbling about his butt. “I just think it’s amusing that you’d be staring at me when you have all this beautiful beach scenery you could be looking at instead.”

America glanced out at the ocean. “The beach is nice.” The coast of Amalfi was beautiful this time of year, with the crystal blue water, picturesque cliffs, and white sand, all lit under the hot southern Italian summer sun. But when he turned back to look at Romano, well... “It’s not half as nice as you, though.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. To be fair, you are really hot.” There was more to it than that, of course, but America was better with actions than with words. He had a passing familiarity with several different languages thanks to his people, but Alfred still didn’t have the vocabulary to communicate how he could never get bored of looking at Romano and how endlessly, hopelessly besotted he was. Romano had called him sappy before based on the stuff America did say, but what America said was only a miniscule fraction of what he truly felt. Lorenzo had no idea how sappy he really was internally.

Lorenzo let out a soft sigh as the tip of Alfred’s index finger started to trace the Medici crest tattoo. “I’m glad you think so, caro.”

America hummed to himself as he traced the rooster feathers too, one by one. The moment was tranquil and not one that needed to be punctuated by anything he might say.

Alfred bit his lip in consideration and decided not to trace Romano’s lower back tattoo. Lorenzo was ticklish there, and he’d probably get annoyed at a featherlight touch that would keep him more awake than he’d like to be. If he touched him more firmly, Romano might make some incidental groans of satisfaction, and then America would get way too turned on, which would be embarrassing when they weren’t alone.

America stuck to that blank space, the one in the middle America had contemplated licking earlier. The water droplets had evaporated by now, but that desire still hadn’t gone away. But for now, he would just stick to drawing random shapes on his back.

Lorenzo giggled when Alfred started drawing those shapes, which weren’t really that random at all. “You—you’re drawing hearts on the middle of my back. Dio, you’re ridiculous.”

“But that’s why you love me,” America replied, with a stupid, bright grin Romano unfortunately couldn’t see. He still felt a little thrill of giddy disbelief whenever he remembered that Lorenzo actually loved him too.

“One of many reasons,” Romano replied drowsily. He yawned, and America’s smile softened to something a little less goofy, but still affectionate.

“I’m not sure what to draw next,” America admitted. “I’m not really good at drawing stuff. You’re the artist in this relationship, not me.”

Romano shrugged, shifting his weight a little further down on the towel. “You could write something, if you wanted.”

Hmm, what would he write? Alfred started with the obvious choice, which was his name.

Lorenzo snorted by the time he got to the third letter. “You’re writing _your name_ on the middle of my back?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Alfred figured it was safe to continue. If Lorenzo had a real problem with it, he would say something. He certainly wasn’t shy about telling a person when they’d pissed him off, though he could be shy about other things, at least until you had earned his trust.

“It’s fine, as long as you’re not thinking I’d actually put a tattoo of your name on me. Because that isn’t happening.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about that. I was just goofing around a little, that’s all.”

“I know. But it’s… the thought of permanently someone else’s name on me, even someone I love, it just… kind of freaks me out a little? It seems like some weird mark of ownership, and that isn’t what I want. My tattoos are for me, not for anybody else.”

America stilled his finger and splayed his palm over Romano’s skin to give him a quick back rub. Nothing that might pull a soft groan out of him, but something to comfort him. He had tensed up a little while talking about this stuff, and he was probably thinking about people who had tried to control him in the past.

“Hey, I don’t want to own you. I just want to be _with_ you, you know? Love you and treat you right, which is what you deserve ‘cause you’re an awesome boyfriend.”

Lorenzo relaxed and let out a quiet huff of contentment. “I know.” He sounded like he was smiling.

“Besides,” America continued, “I’ve never believed in that whole tattooing somebody’s name on you thing. I figured it would jinx things.”

“Jinx things? This sounds like another weird superstitions you have, like that thing about the number thirteen.”

“Not like you don’t have a problem with the number seventeen,” Alfred pointed out. “But no, it’s just a thing I’ve noticed. A lot of people who get someone’s name tattooed on them break up not too long after they do that. I think it’s an inverse correlation. As soon as they get something permanent done, it’s like the relationship becomes less permanent, and I don’t want that, especially not with you, because—”

_Because I want this to be permanent. I never want to break up with you. I want to be with you forever, and I mean that literally, because not being with you is unthinkable to me. And there’s some really insane part of me that feels like I need to propose to you right now._

Alfred couldn’t manage to say any of that out loud, and he wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. The thoughts racing through his mind were scaring him a little, and they could definitely scare Lorenzo a _lot_ if he voiced them aloud. Possibly even scare him enough into leaving, into running away from him.

“Because what, America? You were going to say something, but then you just… stopped talking.”

Alfred didn’t respond, because he didn’t know how to. He was trying not to panic at the idea of Romano leaving him, and his struggle to keep himself together didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for him to respond to a question.

Lorenzo turned over to face him and squinted up at him with a concerned look in his gorgeous hazel eyes. Gorgeous hazel eyes that might never look that way at him again if he said the wrong thing and made Romano leave by wanting too much. “Alfredo, what’s wrong? You’re starting to scare me a little.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I was actually trying to stop myself from freaking you out, actually.”

“Well, a good way to do that is to tell me what’s going on.” Lorenzo took his hands and started rubbing them between his palms like they had been out in the cold. It was sweet of him, even if the gesture didn’t make sense on a hot summer day.

America sighed. “It’s just… I love you a lot, you know? But I don’t think I’d realized how much until like half a minute ago.”

Romano wrinkled his brow like he was confused. “Okay? I’m not following here.”

America squeezed Romano’s hands and stared down at them, unable to look into his eyes. “It’s just, I _love_ you. And I can’t imagine a time when I won’t, so even if it’s impossible to make this promise, especially since we aren’t exactly normal human beings, I want us to be together. _Forever_. And I don’t even know if we’d be allowed to, but I really want to marry you.”

It took a few painful seconds before Lorenzo started to reply, and when he did, he sounded nervous. “Alfred, that’s…”

“I don’t mean like your standard nation marriage thing,” America rushed to explain. “Not a political union. Because that’s not feasible, it’s not something I think either of us would want, and now that I think about it, I would probably have to marry your brother too. And no offense to Feliciano, but that sounds weird as hell.”

Romano let out a small laugh. “I’m glad you don’t want to marry Vene.”

“I, um, just want to marry you. Like the way two normal people would get married, because I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He glanced over Romano’s left shoulder at a man and a woman with their two children. “But even humans get divorced about half the time. Nations get divorced even more often because of political shit. I’d prefer to avoid that if we can, because that sounds painful and horrible.” America shivered a little, just from imagining it. He’d been lonely before, and he’d been left by people before (namely England, all the time when he was a colony). But if Romano left him, _after_ they’d gotten married? America didn’t think he’d be able to survive that.

“I think we’ve done a pretty decent job at avoiding the painful and horrible, tesoro. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

And just like that, America was pulled out of the anxious spiral he could have fallen into so easily without Romano’s help. He was pulled back to reality, just with an endearment.

He actually looked at Romano without the blinders of fear, and saw that he was smiling at him gently. He didn’t seem like he was planning on running off or saying something that would break America’s heart, but he still hadn’t given him a clear answer.

“So, is that a yes, or, uhh…”

Lorenzo grinned at him and lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “That is a yes, if it can be the way you explained it. I think I’d like to marry you. I think I’d like that very much.”

Alfred melted, both under the touch and under the answer Lorenzo had given him. “I’m so happy right now,” he confessed quietly. “So, so happy.”

“I’m happy too, amore.”

“I wish I had a ring, or something I could give you to mark the occasion. But I hadn’t planned on asking you to marry me today. It just kinda happened.”

“I could tell. Don’t worry about a ring right now. We can figure out that part later.”

Lorenzo’s hand slid up into his hair, and Alfred’s eyes fluttered shut automatically. Lorenzo leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep, pouring so much tenderness and passion into it that Alfred nearly wept from emotion. America breathed in sharply through his nose and attempted to reciprocate to the best of his ability.

Eventually, Romano pulled away from the kiss. He lay down on his back and pulled America down onto the towel with him. “C’mere,” he said. “I still want that nap.”

“Of course you do.” Alfred was so excited he could’ve bounced all over the beach and shouted his happiness to the entire world, but right now, cuddling Lorenzo sounded like a better idea. He should probably figure out if they were even allowed to get married before he started blasting out the news of their engagement to all the other nations. And check in with Lorenzo, of course.

America splayed his hand over Romano’s stomach and nuzzled his neck with his nose. “I love you so much. So, so, so, so much. From here to the moon and back.”

Romano closed his eyes and made a pleased noise. “Ti amo anch’io, idiota.”

Alfred giggled deliriously as his boyfriend (scratch that, _fiancé_ ) drifted off to sleep. He managed to stop giggling like a maniac after a couple minutes, but he was still smiling down at Lorenzo sappily by the time he woke up an hour later. America wasn’t sure how he had gotten this lucky, but he was hoping he’d get to keep it for a while longer.

Judging by the way Lorenzo was holding his hand as they walked off to the car, he didn’t have anything to worry about.


End file.
